


New Beginnings with Brian Orser

by writeskatelive



Category: Evgenia Medvedeva - Fandom, Figure Skating - Fandom, Jason Brown - Fandom
Genre: New Beginnings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2019-06-02
Packaged: 2020-04-06 15:27:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19065400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writeskatelive/pseuds/writeskatelive
Summary: Evgenia Medvedeva and Jason Brown just made the hardest decision of their lives: to leave their longtime coaches to train with Brian Orser.





	1. Blow Me One Last Kiss

"I think I've finally had enough

I think I maybe think too much

I think this might be it for us

Blow me one last kiss."

\- P!nk

 

"You're leaving?"

Eteri Georgievna Tutberidze could be a very pretty woman when she was pleased. She had long, tight curls, which she had recently brightened to a syrupy golden brown, and she was always fashionably dressed in a palette of gray, black, and beige. She was in her early forties, still quite tall and slender, and when she smiled, she had a respectable set of straight white teeth.

She was not smiling now.

"You spoiled little brat!" she hissed. "What do you think you're going to do, run away to Canada and live like a hobo? After everything I've done for you-"

Evgenia took a deep breath. She'd seen enough people leave Eteri to know that this wouldn't go well, but she wanted to make it as painless as possible. She'd chosen a public place – next to the benches at the edge of the ice – so the other girls could see what was going on and get help in case Eteri lost it.

"Please, Eteri Georgievna," she said, "don't make it worse."

"Don't make it worse?" Eteri scoffed, planting one hand on her hip. "You put up such a fuss and you think I'm the one making it worse? Acting like it's my fault you didn't win the Olympics? What will the media think?"

Evgenia wanted to point out that it was Eteri who had publicly denounced Sergei Voronov when he left her, and it was Eteri who had claimed Polina Tsurskaya had a genetic bone problem, and it was Eteri who kept telling Julia to lose weight until she developed anorexia. But arguing with Eteri never did her any good, so instead she said, "I leave on Saturday."

Eteri's nostrils flared for a moment, but her face settled into a mockingly calm expression. "All right, all right. If that's what you want, go ahead. Go leave our lifelong coach to move halfway around the world and train with the old man. I don't care. Do you see me trying to stop you?"

A gasp made them both turn. Alina was standing in front of them, her hand over her mouth. She was two years younger than Evgenia and a few inches shorter, but she moved with the easy confidence of a newly crowned Olympic champion.

"What's going on here?" she said.

Eteri frowned. "I was wondering the same thing. Why don't we ask Zhenya here? She seems to think she knows everything. Tell her, Zhenya, what you were telling me."

Evgenia swallowed. She could feel Eteri's eyes scorching through her, but she did not look away from Alina. "I'm moving to Canada to train with Brian Orser."

Alina's little mouth fell open. "Brian Orser? But...but he's a legend! He coaches Yuzu and Javi and-"

Eteri flicked her hand. "Yes, yes, Alina, all those people. And now maybe he'll know what to do with Zhenya." She lay her hand on Alina's shoulder. "Well, you know what they always say. The worst enemy of a bride is her bridesmaid."

"It's not like that!" Evgenia's hands were in fists. "Alina, it has nothing to do with you, I swear!"

That only fueled Eteri's anger. "So it's always me who's the bad guy? No, we won't blame precious Alina. We'll just act like everything is Eteri Georgievna's fault. 'Eteri Georgievna gave me that stress fracture in my foot'. 'Eteri Georgievna didn't get me back in shape in time for the biggest competition of my life'. 'Eteri Georgievna let dear, dear Alina compete in the Olympics and beat me, heaven forbid!' Zhenya, it's time to grow up. Your excuses are exhausting."

Evgenia bit her lip. Her relationship with Eteri had never been simple. When she wanted to, Eteri could be warm, motherly, and proud of everything Evgenia did. She could even remember, long before "weight" and "puberty" were the only words uttered in the rink, a time when Eteri had given her candy out of her own purse. If Evgenia needed advice on a new dress or a boy, she asked Eteri Georgievna.

But she was also no stranger to the other side of her coach. Several times, she could recall Eteri grabbing her by the back of her shirt and dragging her across the ice because she thought Evgenia was being lazy. She remembered that day when Julia came back from summer vacation, barely five pounds heavier than usual, and Eteri berated her in front of the whole rink. She remembered the scalding looks Eteri gave her own daughter Diana when she could not land a triple lutz. The great writer Dostoyevsky would've been enthralled by the duality of this woman.

Alina's eyes darted from Eteri to Evgenia. "So when do you leave?" Her voice was small.

"Saturday," said Evgenia.

Alina frowned. "That's soon."

Contrary to popular belief, Evgenia and Alina bore no ill will towards each other. In fact, they were on very good terms. But since the Olympics, Alina had been spending more time doing sponsorships and PR stuff, and Evgenia had been left alone to figure out what should be done.

"Alina!" Danill, Eteri's assistant coach, hurried over. "There's a package at the door for you."

"Okay." Alina glanced at Evgenia once more, as if to ask, "Will you be all right?"

Evgenia nodded. She was still young, but she wasn't a child anymore, and she had the right to leave her coach whenever she wanted to.

Alina took a deep breath, then followed Danill to the door, leaving Evgenia alone under Eteri's gaze.

"Zhenya, Zhenya, Zhenya." Eteri let out an airy sigh. "I don't understand. Why are you so angry with me? What can this Orser give you that I can't?"

"Please." Evgenia held up her hand, as if a train was flying towards her and she had no power to stop it. "I need to do this. It's what's best for both of us. Please, Eteri Georgievna, you don't understand."

"You're blasted right I don't understand. Why are you doing this to me, Zhenya? Just tell me why!"

It was hard to argue with Eteri when she was angry, but it was even worse when she wasn't. Because then Evgenia was forced to see all the broken pieces of this woman, and her sympathy stifled the fight in her.

"I can't answer that," she said.

She turned towards the door of the rink and started walking away. She could feel Eteri's eyes on her, but no voice called back for her.


	2. So Goodbye, Please Don’t Cry

"So goodbye, please don't cry

We both know I'm not what you need

And I wish you joy and happiness

But above all this, I wish you love."

\- Dolly Parton

 

Jason packed his last shirt in the suitcase and took his time zipping it up. Usually he loved traveling to new places and meeting all the wonderful people there. He loved eating the local cuisine, shopping in the charming markets, and hiking to see the natural beauty of Earth. He loved every place in the world; each one had its own special something.

But this wasn't just a trip. This was moving day.

He slung his backpack over his shoulder and swallowed as he looked around at his room. His mom and his sister had already helped clear out most of his stuff, so all that was left was the old desk and dresser, which were too heavy to take with him. Everything else was being shipped, bound for Canada.

"Jason?" His mom peeked into the room. "Kori's here."

Jason had thought it was only fair to invite Kori to see him off, but now that she was here, now that he was actually leaving for good, he was starting to wish he hadn't.

Even though Kori had shown no animosity at his decision to move to Brian Orser, somehow Jason couldn't help feeling like he was betraying her. She had coached him from his first skating lesson. She had been there while he struggled to land a triple axel, and she'd been there when he finally landed it. She had been there when he brought down the house with his Riverdance program and qualified to the 2014 Olympics. She had been there when he twisted his back and wasn't sure if he could skate again. She had been there when he fractured his foot and fought his way through the pain at Nationals.

And she had been there in San Jose when his chance at making the Olympic team slipped out of his hands, one jump at a time.

"I'll be right down," he said.

His mom left him alone, and he looked out the window at the driveway. Kori was standing outside, hovering next to her car. She hadn't brought her kids – he had already spent most of last week promising them that "Uncle Jason" would FaceTime when he could. He knew that if he saw them again, he'd change his mind and beg Kori to take him back.

He took one last look at the room and jogged down the stairs, trying not to look at the beautiful home he was leaving behind. When he stepped onto the porch, the whole family was waiting for him (they'd all flown in except his dad, who was still working in Chicago but would meet up with them later).

His mom was already in the passenger seat of the Honda - she would be making the long journey to Toronto with him. Which was a good idea, because he would definitely break down and cry if he had to say goodbye to his mom and his coach on the same day.

He set down the suitcase to hug Jordan, his older sister. She tickled him between his shoulder blades, and he couldn't help but laugh.

"You'll be fine," she said. "Brian's rink could use someone like you."

He smiled and turned to his little brother Dylan, who had come from college to say goodbye. Dylan, who was not a hugger, clapped him on the back. "Make us proud, brother."

"I will." Jason felt suddenly choked up. He hadn't spent much time with Dylan in the past few years. He'd always thought there would be time.

Then he turned to Kori.

"Jason." She smiled. She was nicely dressed in a black blazer with her hair in loose, coppery curls, but her eyes were tired. At least she didn't look angry.

He hesitated, no words coming to mind. She had not really changed much since he first met her, and that had been nearly twenty years ago. Well, actually, the first time he saw her, all he could see of her was her knee. He was considering if he should just say goodbye before either one started to cry, when she pulled out a paper clip from her pocket. It glistened in the sunlight.

"When you were little," she said, barely loud enough for him to hear, "you used to get so upset when you couldn't land your jumps. So I would dangle a paper clip on a string and tell you to focus on it until you could move it with your mind. When you finally calmed down and focused, I would move the paper clip ever so slightly." She laughed a little. "Do you remember that?"

He nodded, laughter bubbling in his throat past the tightness. "I remember being so mad when I found out it was a trick."

She took his hand and pressed the paper clip into his palm. "I was trying to think of something to get you. You know, for a goodbye gift. It's not much...but I thought it would remind you of me." Kori glanced down. "That is, if you want to remember me."

"Of course I do." He closed his fingers around the metal, letting it warm against his skin. "You're the best coach I could ever ask for."

He threw his arms around her shoulders. They had shared thousands of such hugs over the years – hugs when he had skated well and hugs when he hadn't – and he was as familiar with the warmth of her embrace as his toothbrush.

"I'll miss you, Jason," she whispered into his neck. "Good luck."

He was trying so hard not to cry that he could barely listen to her words. He squeezed her extra tight, sending all his love into that hug, all the love his body could hold.

"I love you, Kori," he whispered.

He held on for just a moment longer, then let go and hoisted his suitcase into the back of the car. His siblings waved as he slid into the front seat and fastened the seatbelt.

"Drive safe!" Kori shouted.

Jason grinned, gave her the thumbs-up through the window, and started driving down the long road to Canada, his family's well-wishes echoing behind him.


End file.
